


“Then You Bring Your Mind to Rest Against Mine”

by SelfRescuingPrincess



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, LA Era (Crooked Media RPF), M/M, Pining, Touch-Starved, vietreau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 18:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19011109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelfRescuingPrincess/pseuds/SelfRescuingPrincess
Summary: Tommy is both impatient and apprehensive when he walks into Crooked HQ Monday morning. He weirdly hasn’t heard from Jon since Saturday. Tommy isn’t exactly sure what went down; it seems most of what happened that day got lost in Sunday’s epic hangover, but he knows he definitely needs to apologize for something. If only he could remember what.Jon storming out of Tommy’s house, though, is pretty unforgettable.





	“Then You Bring Your Mind to Rest Against Mine”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from “The Writing’s on the Wall” by OKGO  
>  _“And I go too high, and you go too cold then we both fall apart_  
>  _Then you bring your mind, to rest against mine_  
>  _But the mind has no say on affairs of the heart”_
> 
> A special thank you, as always, to my Betas: [Timjan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timjan/pseuds/Timjan) and [tommyandthejons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommyandthejons/pseuds/tommyandthejons). In particular: Timjan for helping me organize the mess of a first (and second and third, etc.) draft into something coherent and vaguely readable, and tommyandthejons for expert New England geography skills. They are lovely humans. 
> 
> Please keep this secret and safe.

 

 

Monday

Tommy is both impatient and apprehensive when he walks into Crooked HQ Monday morning. He weirdly hasn’t heard from Jon since Saturday. Tommy isn’t exactly sure what went down; it seems most of what happened that day got lost in Sunday’s epic hangover, but he knows he definitely needs to apologize for something. If only he could remember _what_.

 

Jon storming out of Tommy’s house, though, is pretty unforgettable.

 

“Hey Tanya, is Jon in yet?” Tommy tries not to sound too desperate. He doesn’t need their whole staff to be curious about his personal life.

 

“He’s in Collusion.” Tanya barely glances up from her screen as she replies, for which Tommy is grateful.

 

“Great, thanks.” Tommy tries to walk as casually as possible, but he’s still dreading what he might find in there. Has he irreparably destroyed their friendship, potentially ruined their company, and destroyed his own life? All because – because – shit. Because _something_. Tommy has to fix this except he doesn’t know how he broke it.

 

Tommy bursts through the door. “Hey, Jon – I’m sorry I fucked up –”

 

Tommy stops mid-sentence as Lovett looks up from the conference table. Fuck. Wrong Jon. How have they seriously not figured out how to differentiate between the two Jons? Maybe they need some sort of company policy? Tommy should write a memo.

 

“Hello to you too, Tommy. And what exactly are you apologizing for? Whatever it is, I magnanimously accept, but you should probably also bring me a Starbucks to cover your bases. Actually, are you alright? Because I gotta say, you don’t look great.” Lovett has a stack of pink and yellow notecards in front of him, preparing for Lovett or Leave It.

 

Tommy ignores Lovett’s question. “Where’s Jon?”  

 

“I'm literally right in front of you.” Lovett gives him A Look.

 

Tommy sighs. “No, Favreau.”

 

Lovett scrunches his face. “The director? Why would I know that? Seriously, what’s up with you?”

 

Tommy does not have time for this nonsense. He walks purposefully into the founders’ office, leaving Lovett’s questions hanging in the air. He has to talk to Jon; he has to apologize for being such an asshole about whatever it was he was an asshole about. They have to do the pod this afternoon, so surely Jon will be here for that. _Oh fuck, the pod_. Tommy feels a new urgency to clear the air – they absolutely have to take care of this weirdness before they start recording, because God only knows what insanity Twitter will fabricate out of any tension between them. He steps into the founders’ office and. What the fuck.

 

“Dan?”

 

Dan looks up from the computer. _Jon’s_ computer. “Yeah, buddy what's up?”

 

“Why are you sitting at Jon's desk?” Though he manages to keep the second but related question, _Why are you even here right now?_ to himself. His heart rate has picked up considerably. He feels clammy.

 

“I'm not?” Dan points at Lovett’s desk covered in Diet Coke cans, haphazard stacks of papers and old issues of The New Yorker, a balled up Straight Shooter T-shirt, and an empty take out container. Tommy clocks the framed photo of Howli on the desk. Jon's desk. Dan's desk? What the shitting fuck is going on?

 

Tommy’s eyes are casting wildly around the room for more information and Dan is looking at him with real concern. Finally, after letting Tommy flail for a minute Dan asks, “Dude, are you okay? If you need to go home Lovett and I can do the pod this afternoon. You don’t need to stress about it.”

 

Tommy blinks. “You and Lovett?”

 

Dan laughs nervously, “Now you're really starting to freak me out. Yeah, me and Lovett. You know, the one we do every Monday.”

 

“But you do Thursday,” Tommy says dumbly.

 

“Yeah, and?”

 

“Yeah. You and Jon.” Jesus, this is like an insane version of Who’s on First, and Tommy’s head is spinning.

 

“No, me and Cody. What is going on?” Dan actually stands up out of his chair at this, his brow furrowed.

 

“Um. I don’t know.” Tommy abruptly picks up his messenger bag and walks out of the office.

 

He sits in his car in the parking lot trying to figure out his next move. He takes a few deep breaths, and tries to concentrate on what happened Saturday. They were watching the Red Sox, he knows that. They had a few beers, but Tommy didn’t think it was that many. It’s all a bit hazy, but he does remember Jon getting off the couch and just… walking out the door. Fuck, what if Jon is avoiding him? Maybe he should call Jon. “Siri, call Jon” he says into the air, even though he always feels weird doing it.

 

It only takes two rings. “Howdy! Decided to flake out on the day?”

 

“Lovett?” _Goddamn it._

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Why are you answering the phone?”

 

“I don’t know, man, maybe because you, like, called me? And I always answer the phone when you call because you are my friend and we run a media juggernaut together? What is your deal?”

 

_I have no idea._ “Um, I don’t feel well. I have to go home.” Tommy hangs up before Lovett can answer. Tommy manually scrolls through his contacts, but Jon’s number somehow isn’t there.  This doesn’t make any sense- did he accidentally erase it? He searches for their last text chain, but that somehow also got deleted? Tommy wishes he had Jon’s number memorized, but who memorizes phone numbers anymore? He decides to go to Jon’s house. Tommy isn’t sure what it will accomplish, but he can at least apologize, and it has the vague semblance of a plan.

 

Ten minutes later he is knocking on Jon’s door. Normally he would just walk right in, but maybe Jon really is pissed, so Tommy decides to at least give him this boundary. The door opens to Howli, with Kyla on her hip, a goldendoodle at her feet. “Hi Tommy! This is unexpected. Did Dan send you?”

 

Tommy reels back, almost tripping on his own feet. “What – what are – how –?”

 

Howli reaches out a steadying hand on Tommy’s arm, “Tommy, are you okay? You should come in and sit down.” Tommy really wishes people would stop asking him if he’s okay, but he’s really starting to question it himself.

 

“Uh, no, I have to go.” Tommy practically sprints back to his car, ignoring Howli calling after him.

 

He drives home, and it’s a miracle he gets there in one piece, because he doesn’t remember any of it. He has to _think_. What is happening? Where is Jon? He scrolls through his phone, and somehow, Jon isn’t in any of his pictures. Tommy is truly panicking now. He goes through his house, Lucca trailing behind him, and Jon isn’t in any of Tommy’s photos, not even the ones with the President. He looks through Pete Souza’s Instagram feed. O’Neil’s Instagram feed. Shomik. Cody. Still nothing. He tries Wikipedia, but only one Jon Favreau shows up. He isn’t on Twitter, Slack, or WhatsApp either. Nothing.

 

Where. Is. Jon.

 

Tommy slumps on his couch, paralyzed. His phone falls out of his hand. A wave of nausea courses through his body and he runs to the bathroom, barely in time for him to retch into the toilet. He sits on the floor, leaning his back against the tub, because it seems safer somehow. Lucca must sense his distress because she climbs into his lap and lets Tommy hold her tight as an indeterminate amount of time passes. He’s so confused.

 

He’s still sitting on the bathroom floor when he hears a pounding at his front door. Startled, he runs down the hall, hoping for something he’s pretty sure won’t happen. He yanks the door open to find Lovett and Pundit, who promptly shove past Tommy into his house.

 

“What the fuck, Tommy? You bolt out of the office this morning and then you don’t answer any of our calls or messages?” Lovett’s tone is harsh, but there is an undercurrent of stress. He isn’t even looking at Tommy; he’s busy rummaging through Tommy’s fridge for a La Croix. Lovett does that sometimes; when emotions are too big, he compensates by avoiding eye contact. Tommy is kind of okay with that right now, even though he normally likes eye contact. Lovett takes a gulp, turns to Tommy, and says, “Are you, like, sick? Are you having a psychotic break?” The Pamplemousse is threatening to spill onto the tile, as Lovett gestures wildly around the kitchen.

 

Tommy doesn’t know how to answer that because, the thing is, he might be? He drifts into the living room to find his phone, still on the floor where he must have dropped it. There are 8 missed calls and 27 messages from various people at Crooked. Finally, way too late, he gets out, “Um, no? I don’t think so?”

 

“Dan sent me over here after getting a very bizarre call from Howli, who said that you showed up at her door looking super out of it, and, I quote, ‘like you had seen a ghost.’ And then you literally ran away when she invited you in.”

 

Oh right. He did do that. “I’m uh, having a very weird day,” Tommy says as he sits on the couch. _What an understatement._

 

“Is there anything I can do?” Lovett sits in the chair across from him. “I can make you dinner?  And by ‘make’ I mean ‘order pizza.’”

 

Tommy manages a small smile. “No thanks.”

 

Lovett shifts in the chair so his feet are curled up under him. “Is there anything you want to, I dunno, talk about?”

 

_How would he even start that conversation? Our best friend is missing, and you seem to have never heard of him and he maybe doesn’t even exist._  “I – uh, no, not right now. Maybe later? I have a headache. I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

 

Lovett looks skeptical.

 

“I promise.”

 

Tommy manages to herd Lovett and Pundit out of his house with assurances, and because Lovett is a Yenta, _re_ assurances: Yes, he will eat something. Yes, he will call if he needs anything. No, he doesn’t need Lovett to Postmate him Comfort Tacos. He is fine. Really. _He’s fine_. Once Lovett leaves, Tommy realizes how exhausted he is. He needs to lie down. As he lays in bed, with Lucca curled up next to him, he tries to convince himself that this is merely a dream. He will wake up tomorrow, and everything will be back to normal.

 

++++

 

_Jon is staring into Tommy’s eyes searching for something and not finding it. “Tommy, am I missing something, here? Doesn’t this feel right?” Tommy feels like an elephant is sitting on his chest. He looks down to see Jon’s hand on his knee, then looks back up at his face. Jon is so beautiful. He can’t breathe. He feels like he is drowning in Jon’s deep brown eyes. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t_ –

 

Tommy bolts upright in bed, gasping for air, startling Lucca. His heart is pounding. It takes him an hour to fall back asleep.

 

++++

 

Tuesday

The next morning, everything is decidedly not back to normal. Tommy wakes up before his alarm, and immediately checks his phone for signs of Jon. Still nothing. Tommy stares at the ceiling until he can’t take it and decides to go for a run. After chasing Lucca around the kitchen trying to get her harness on, they are finally out the door, and Tommy can focus on his stride, feel the pounding in his legs, and the burning in his lungs. It always feels good to focus on the physical, when the mental becomes too much. In school it helped him work through all kinds of challenges – girls, boys, grades. He was never the most talented lacrosse player, but he was always the most fit. Eventually he feels Lucca start to lag, and takes pity on her, carrying her the rest of the way home.

 

While in the shower Tommy decides to try and get through the day as if everything was fine, and then maybe he can get some more info out of Dan and Lovett. He also has Pod Save the World to record, so he needs to have his shit together at least a little bit.

 

When he gets in, he sees Ben in the main area of the office. Ben looks up from his phone. “Hey Tommy! I was reading over the outline for today. I was thinking maybe we should talk about Iran after – hey, you feeling okay?”

 

This again. _God_ , Tommy wishes he could at least appear normal enough so people would stop gaping at him.

 

“Yeah dude, I'm fine. How was Brussels? Let's go into the studio so you can talk about your trip for the pod.”

 

When they finish recording, Ben takes off his headphones, places them carefully on the desk, and gives Tommy a once over.

 

“What.” Tommy sighs as he pulls his own headphones off and leaves them hanging around his neck.

 

“Nothing, man. It's just, you seem a little off your game is all.” Ben shrugs.

 

“I'm just, uh, tired.”

 

Ben looks doubtful. “I've seen you tired. Like for real tired. This is more like… distracted. Out of it.”

 

“I dunno. You ever feel like you’re missing something that everyone else knows?”

 

“Uh, yeah, we worked in national security, remember? I felt like that all the fucking time. Even with all the intelligence we ever had, it never seemed like enough information.”

 

“Yeah, that’s kind of it. But, like, about my own life.”

 

“You want to come over to the house later? Talk about it?”

 

Tommy appreciates the offer but doesn’t think he can handle it right now. “Nah. But I appreciate the offer.”

 

He moves through the rest of the day robotically, laughing at jokes half a second too late. Dan and Lovett keep giving each other surreptitious looks, like Tommy isn’t supposed to see the silent conversations they are having about him. Given how yesterday went, Tommy can’t really blame them for keeping an eye on him.

 

It feels like he keeps missing the bottom step but no, there are no steps, it’s just Jon he’s missing. He doesn’t learn anything new from Dan or Lovett, other than confirming that Jon does not exist in this reality. He searches the interwebs to see if he can figure out anything else. Tommy was still responsible for Iowa in 2007, but it looks like Cody was the President’s “Hemingway,” and Lovett joined the Obama campaign when Dan did, officially an Obama “Bro” in this world. Tommy and Dan apparently started a consulting firm, Capitol Strategies, and they moved out to LA around the same time – no side-track to San Francisco. _Keepin’ it 1600_ was also Dan and Tommy, though Tommy doesn’t watch any of the livestreams. It all seems so… plausible. But still so wrong.

 

After he gets home, Tommy decides to attempt a new tactic. He looks up Jon’s parents online, which is weird since he would normally just get the number from his contacts under “Mark & Lill”. He tries to strategize a line of questioning before he dials the number; he doesn’t come up with any solid plan but hopes familiarity and press training will sustain him. It rings three times before Jon’s mom answers.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Um, hello. Is this Lillian?” Tommy needs to remember to be calm and matter of fact. And try not to cry.

 

“It is, who is this?” Her voice brings back a flood of memories of Boston. She has always been so nice to Tommy, and when he first met her, it became so obvious how Jon turned out the way he did.

 

Reflexively, Tommy answers, “It’s me, Tommy.”

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know a Tommy. Are you sure you have the right number?”

 

“Oh. Right. Uh, yes. My name is Tommy Vietor, and I’m calling about a friend of mine, your son Jon.”

 

“I’m sorry – Tommy is it? – we don’t have a son named Jon. Our son’s name is Andy; is that who you’re talking about?” She sounds so formal; she is unmistakably talking to a stranger and it makes Tommy cringe.

 

“You do! I mean, yes, you have a son named Andy, but he has an older brother Jon.” Tommy is feeling the faint tingle of desperation, like he’s on the verge of losing it.

 

There’s a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “Look, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know what this is about. Did Andy put you up to this?”

 

Tommy’s losing her. He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, ma’am, this isn’t – I’m not explaining myself well.” Tommy continues, “I am trying to reach someone named Jon Favreau. We are best friends. That’s how I know you.”

 

“Tommy, dear –”

 

Tommy cuts her off, “He grew up in North Reading, Massachusetts. He went to The College of the Holy Cross, where he was the editor of his school paper. You used to vacation in Miromar Lake for Christmas. We worked together at the Whi… – he worked in politics. He’s my best friend and I’m looking for him.” Tommy is pacing urgently around his back yard, while Lucca chews serenely on a rope toy.

 

Silence.

 

“H-hello?”

 

“I went to Holy Cross.”

 

“What?” This is getting off track.

 

“ _I_ went to Holy Cross and worked at the paper. What else did Andy tell you about me?”

 

“I haven’t talked to Andy?” Tommy was getting nowhere with this. “Lil… – Mrs. Favreau. I’m simply hoping you can help me find Jon.”

 

“Tommy. As I said, I do not have a son named Jon. Although, now I think about it… didn’t Andy have an imaginary friend named Jon? Did Andy put you up to this?” She sighs again. “Did you boys honestly think it would be funny to call me? Aren’t you both a little too old for this monkey business?” She sounds like she’s in full patient-yet-exasperated-mom-mode.

 

“Wait – what? Imaginary friend?” Tommy can feel his eyes prickle with tears. How is Tommy supposed to find Jon when Jon’s own mother doesn’t even know he exists?

 

“Yes, Andy’s childhood imaginary friend Jon.” Lillian is talking to Tommy like he’s eight years old, now. Tommy needs to get more info from her before she hangs up on him.

 

“Um, can you tell me about him?” Tommy tries to keep his voice even.

 

“About Andy? He’s your friend, ask him yourself.”

 

“No, um, about the imaginary friend.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know, it was just a silly thing kids do! Now, you have had your fun. Please tell Andy I say hi.”

 

“No! Wait, wait, wait! Don’t hang up! Wait – Lil… – Mrs. Favreau –”

 

_*Click*_

 

_FUCK._ Tommy stares at his phone. Nothing. He got nothing from that, other than annoying one of the nicest, most decent ladies on planet Earth. He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. What did he really think he was going to accomplish, anyway? He’s so manifestly idiotic. Jon has never existed in this universe. This realization hits Tommy like a ton of bricks. How is _he_ supposed to exist like this, without Jon’s emotion and optimism, the necessary balance to Tommy’s analytical and cynical tendencies? Living without Jon would be like living without half his brain, like missing a limb, or Tommy realizes with a sob, like missing his heart.

 

++++

 

_Tommy gazes out at the ocean. He never thought he would love living on the Pacific Ocean more than he loved the snow of the northeast or the boardwalk on Quincy Bay. He turns to see Jon a little ways down the beach, throwing a tennis ball for Leo. He watches Jon, who is so comfortable in his own skin, at complete ease, tossing the ball and scooping it up where Leo drops it at his feet. Tommy is envious of Jon’s easy demeanor. He always feels a little awkward, like if he stops paying attention for even a second he’ll mess up, disappoint someone, let someone down. Let Jon down._

_As if he can sense Tommy’s eyes on him, Jon glances over his shoulder and grins at Tommy. Tommy smiles back, can’t help himself. Jon’s smiles are the best._

_“Jon!” Tommy calls to him, but Jon just keeps throwing the ball. The waves are crashing on the shore and the breeze is picking up. “Jon! I have to talk to you!” Tommy tries to walk over to Jon, but his feet are stuck in the sand. “JON!” Tommy shouts into the wind. Jon, oblivious, picks up the tennis ball and tosses it. “JOOOONNNN!!!”_

 

Tommy’s eyes blink open and he’s staring at the ceiling. His mouth is dry, so he gets up to get a glass of water.

 

++++

 

Wednesday

Wednesday is when Jon’s absence really starts to sink in. Tommy feels itchy, like he’s about to molt or something. He should feel totally at home in the office – these are still his people – and yet he feels oddly removed from everyone. Uncomfortable in his own skin. Lonely.

 

When he asks Lovett to read over some notes that afternoon, Lovett leans in to look at the monitor over Tommy's shoulder with his hand on the back of Tommy's chair. Tommy finds himself leaning his shoulder back into where Lovett’s hand rests, like his body is seeking out the contact without his brain realizing what he’s doing. Lovett just quietly shifts his hand. _Lovett is weird about casual touching_ , Tommy chastises himself. But it also occurs to him that Jon… Jon is not. Jon without a doubt would have put his hand on Tommy's shoulder, not on the chair. Tommy rolls his shoulders to try and shake out the tension.

 

Tommy has a lunch appointment with Brian about writing a column for the Crooked website on Chris Murphy’s work on the Yemen crisis. It’s a productive meeting, and Tommy has a good outline to work with. He gets up to leave, and automatically makes a move to hug Brian before he catches himself and offers a weird handshake instead. Brian glances down at Tommy’s outstretched hand, says “Oh,” and gives Tommy’s hand a quick grasp. Tommy shoves his hand in his pocket as he walks down the hall, back to his desk.

 

Later, when Dan hands him a coffee he gives Tommy a weird look. Tommy doesn’t realize why, until he looks down and see their fingers brushing together. _Oh._ This isn’t something he does with Dan. It’s something that only happens with _Jon._ Tommy takes the cup, coughs awkwardly, and goes back to reading his book.

 

By the end of the day Tommy has come to the realization that it’s not only his brain that misses Jon, it’s his whole body. Tommy has never appreciated how much he and Jon touched before. The hands on the shoulders, the hugs, the apparently not-so-incidental brushing of fingers, are all things that Tommy accepted as a natural part of his relationship with Jon, and now he’s aching for it. He even misses the dumb stuff – knees knocking together, punches in the arm, stupid high fives.

 

A few weeks ago, Tommy had been standing in the front room, dicking around on Twitter, waiting for Jon to show up so they could go to lunch. When Jon finally walked up to him, he hooked his finger into Tommy's belt loop, dragged him along as he walked backwards, towards the door. “C'mon, Tom, I’m hungryyyy.”

 

Tommy laughed, “Okay, okay, but, like, I’m the one who’s been waiting for you, dude.” He lets Jon pull him by the hip all the same. After lunch he had caught Lovett staring at him. “What?” Tommy mouthed. Jon was writing, and Tommy didn't want to disrupt him by being loud. Lovett had just raised an eyebrow at him and resumed typing.

 

He drives home thinking about how much he and Jon function practically as a symbiotic entity. Jon’s always just _there_ , always within arm’s reach. Tommy’s not an idiot, but he can’t believe how he’s missed what his body has been telling him. And now that he knows it, he can't get it out of his head.

 

So maybe there are some things Tommy needs to re-evaluate.

 

++++

 

_“Tommy?”_

_Tommy spins around in his office chair, startled out of his concentration on the Libya statement. He leans back craning his neck towards the door. “Jon?” Jon sounds like he’s calling him from the hallway, so Tommy steps out of Lower Press, but no one is there. It’s late, the White House is pretty empty. Jon must be working on the State of the Union. Tommy knows how focused Jon gets when he’s really concentrating; he sometimes loses track of time. Tommy doesn’t see where Jon wandered off to, so he calls out, “Jon?”_

_Tommy keeps walking down the dark hall towards Jon’s office._

_“Hey, Tommy,” Jon calls._

_“Jon?” Tommy rounds the corner, but the hallway is empty. He finds Jon’s office and the door is open, but Jon’s not in it. Papers are strewn all over the desk, briefing binders stacked randomly on one corner, desk lamp on. He must have gone to get coffee._

_Tommy wanders down to the mess but it, too, is dark and empty._

_“Tommy, I’ve got a question for you.”_

_“What do you need Jon?” Tommy asks as he turns around to another empty corridor. “Where are you?”_

_Tommy starts walking faster, looking in offices, the copy room, under each stall in the restroom, but Jon isn’t anywhere Tommy would expect._

_“Tommy, over here, I need you,” Jon calls from another room._

_Tommy runs into the conference room. “I’m here, Jon,” but it’s also empty; the lights aren't even on. Tommy tries to take deep breaths, control his distress. Where could Jon be? “Jon, I can’t find you.” he calls out. Tommy’s pager starts beeping, he looks at the number, but he doesn’t recognize it. A reporter, maybe? The beeping gets louder and louder, but Tommy can’t get it to stop. The number continues to blink back at him._

 

Tommy wakes up to his alarm beeping in his ear. He’s exhausted.

 

++++

 

Thursday

It’s been four days without Jon, and Tommy feels completely unmoored. He’s been trying to go about his days and be productive, which is only partially successful. Most of the business stuff is still the same in this reality but seeing Dan at the helm is very strange. Obviously, Dan is completely capable and, if Tommy is being honest, runs a slightly tighter ship than Jon.

 

Under the guise of sponsor research, Tommy clicks on the iTunes icon to search the Crooked Media podcasts, and instead of The Wilderness, he finds a 10-part documentary by Dan on the use of technology in the media called “Changing Landscapes: From Rural Farms to Server Farms”. He can’t bring himself to listen to it. Maybe later. It’s probably excellent. He gives up and clicks on a Jason Isbell song instead, sliding on his headphones.

 

After he has managed to work on sponsor stuff for long enough that it doesn’t look like he’s totally bailing, Tommy starts to gather his things. At the same moment, Dan walks into the founders’ office and says, “Hey – I’m glad I caught you, do you have a sec?”

 

“Um, sure.” Tommy had hoped to get out of the office quietly, but no such luck.

 

“I’m going to grab a coffee, walk with me?”

 

They walk into the California sunshine, down the block towards the coffee shop. Tommy walks with his hands in his pockets, looking down at the sidewalk, waiting for Dan to say something. Dan walks with a confident ease, always so sure of himself and his place in the world. Tommy wishes he could feel like that on a normal day, let alone during a week where everything is so off-kilter.

 

“How are things going with the new sponsor?” comes Dan’s neutral opener, when they’re halfway down the street.

 

“Um. Okay, I guess.” Tommy is still trying to do a good job, can’t help himself in any reality.

 

“You’ve been really preoccupied this week.” It’s not unkind. It’s also not a question. “Howli was asking me about you.”

 

“Oh.” Tommy tries to not sound too defeated, remembering how he basically recoiled from her the last time he saw her.

 

At the coffee shop, they wait in line, not saying anything. Dan has a way of being quiet where Tommy doesn’t feel like he has to fill the silence. And Tommy knows that Dan asking him to coffee – reaching out to him even in this small way – is a gentle reminder that Dan is genuinely concerned. He isn’t showy in his affections ( _“Not like Jon!”_ Tommy’s brain helpfully supplies), but that doesn’t mean Dan won’t worry about him. Dan’s loyalty runs deep.

 

They get their coffee and start walking back.

 

“Look,” Dan begins, “I don’t know what’s going on in your life, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I want to make sure you are okay. And I know you know this, but Howli will be pissed at me if I don’t make it clear to you that if you need anything, all you have to do is ask.”

 

Tommy is grateful for Dan’s no-nonsense approach. “Yeah, um,” he starts, but he doesn’t quite know what to say or how to say it. “I, uh, don’t really know what’s going on with myself, honestly.” When he glances over at Dan, his face is hard to read behind his sunglasses.

 

“Well, if I can offer some advice? Try not to force it. Whenever I’m attempting to work through something, trying to rush the answer never works.”

 

“Worry about everything, panic about nothing, right?” Tommy parrots back to Dan, and it makes Dan laugh, throwing his head back. Tommy offers him a small grin of his own in return.

 

They’re back at the office and are about to go inside when Dan stops and puts a grounding hand on Tommy’s shoulder, which Tommy tries not to lean into, at least not too obviously. “You’ll be okay, you know that, right? You’re a smart guy. You’ll figure it out.”

 

“Yeah,” Tommy says, though it doesn’t have much conviction behind it. He tries again, “Thanks, man.” Tommy’s not sure if it conveys his gratitude for Dan’s friendship, but it’s all he’s got right now.

 

++++

_Tommy is sitting at a school desk that feels too small. He peers around the classroom at the other students. Some are reviewing notes, while others are flipping through 3x5 cards. What class is this?_

_The professor walks in the door with a stack of papers. “All right class, put everything away, it's time for your final exam to start.” Groans and paper shuffling and the clicking of mechanical pencils follow. Tommy looks around with an increasing sense of alarm. Where is he? He's not ready for a final exam. He didn't study! He doesn't even have a pencil! He looks down at the first question._ Oh no. _Words like “functions,” “differential,” and “matrix” swirl around a bunch of numbers like calculus soup. He tries to make sense of the question, but the numbers and symbols are jumbled and meaningless. They might make sense to someone, but not this philosophy major.  Tommy knows he never enrolled in any kind of advanced math. He's absolutely in the wrong place. He walks up to where the professor is sitting, only hyperventilating a little bit._

_“Yes, Tommy?”_

_“I think there has been a mistake. I'm not in this class.”_

_“You've been here all semester, though.”_

_Tommy can feel himself get flustered. “No, there has been a mix up. I'm not supposed to be here.”_

_“Tommy, please sit down and finish your test.”_

_He’s starting to panic. “I'm really not supposed to be here! I didn't sign up for this!” Tommy is shouting now, but he doesn't care. “I don't know how to solve this problem!! I'm not supposed to be here!!! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!!”_

 

Tommy wakes up to a damp pillowcase and Lucca licking the salty tracks on his cheeks.

 

++++

 

Friday

After the chat with Dan, Tommy feels emboldened to try a less-traditional approach. So here he is, doing something he probably would have laughed at a week ago.

 

Tommy stands outside of the little cottage, hesitating in front of the bright yellow door. This is dumb; this shit isn’t even real. He thinks back to Lovett ranting about horoscopes: “I still reject the idea that the location of the planets and Mercury in Retrograde has any impact on our daily experience, and everybody who’s talking about it sounds _ridiculous_.” Tommy had unequivocally agreed with Lovett at the time (though he had also been suitably impressed that Lovett knew what “retrograde” even was). But what else is he supposed to do? He knows in his _bones_ that this reality isn’t right. Jon can’t have just disappeared from existence.

 

Tommy double checks the address from the website to make sure he's at the right place. _Desperate times_ , Tommy thinks as he knocks on the door.

 

He doesn’t know what he really expected, but it’s decidedly not the young woman who opens the door. She’s in a pink skirt and a mint green cashmere twin set, brown hair in a ponytail with a ribbon around it. She looks like a bowl of sorbet.

 

“Uh…” Tommy starts but is cut off by the woman smiling at him.

 

“You must be Tommy. I’m Alice. Come on in.” She seems friendly enough as she waves him into her house.

 

Tommy stands awkwardly in the living room, when a tiny dog comes running in from another room, tail wagging. Because he can't help himself, Tommy kneels down to scratch behind her ears.

 

“Oh, she likes you! She doesn’t always like everyone, especially men. That says a lot about you.”

 

“What’s her name?” The dog, a dachshund, is so small she could almost fit in his hand.

 

“Angela Merkel.”

 

“Seriously?” Tommy looks up from the floor, grinning.

 

“Well, she’s short, German, and she’s very smart, so it seemed fitting.”

 

Tommy chuckles; he’s forgotten, for a second, the reason he’s here in the first place. He rubs Angela’s belly as she wiggles on her back.

 

“Shall we?” Alice gestures to a pair of turquoise armchairs, as she picks up Angela. She sits in the other chair, curling one foot under her, and Angela settles in her lap. Tommy glances around the sun-filled room taking in the bright colors, the adorable knick-knacks, piles of books, and framed photos. He assumed there would be dream catchers, or crystals, or too many candles, but here, everything is… cute? There is a tissue box that looks like a volcano, a collection of succulents on the windowsill, and the pillow on Tommy’s chair is embroidered with an octopus and says, “free hugs.”

 

“So, how does this, um, work, exactly?” Tommy has seen movies, but so far this experience doesn’t match any of that, as if that means anything.

 

“You mentioned you were searching for someone. Were you able to bring an object of theirs?”

 

“Um, kind of.” Tommy pulls an Obama ‘08 mug from his messenger bag. He hadn’t been able to find anything that specifically belonged to Jon, which was kind of the whole problem. But this mug had sat on the desk of the cubicle they shared in Chicago HQ, so it’s the closest thing Tommy has.

 

Alice holds the mug in her hands, eyes closed. Her fingernails are painted with purple glitter nail polish that catches the sun as she runs her fingers over the logo. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in the chair, but that’s not the chair’s fault. He feels weird about all of this. What is he even doing here? He should go. Brainstorm actual legitimate ways to find Jon.

 

“This has a lot of happy memories for you.” Alice quietly breaks into Tommy’s runaway thoughts.

 

“Um. Yeah.” But that’s true for a lot of people.

 

“But also, a lot of stress?”

 

“Yeah.” Also true for a lot of people. Tommy starts to think about how he can gracefully exit this waste of a meeting.

 

“What’s with all the words?”

 

Tommy blinks at her. “The what?”

 

“The words? So many words. Pages and pages of words. Does that mean anything to you?”

 

“Maybe?” Seems kind of generic?

 

“Okay.” She pauses, closes her eyes again. “Why am I under a desk?”

 

Tommy’s brain flashes to Jon calling Ann Nixon Cooper on Election night to tell her he’s going to include her story in Obama’s victory speech, getting all teary-eyed as he hid under his desk for what counted as privacy as everyone celebrated Ohio getting called.  “I… uh… I don’t know?” Tommy feels flushed and his knee starts to bounce. He presses his hand to his thigh to regain some composure.

 

Alice’s brow furrows. “Hmmm.”  She pauses. “Whose birthday is in August?”

 

“Mine.”

 

“So, you’re a Leo?”

 

Tommy’s heart skips a beat. “No, I’m a Virgo. Why did you say ‘Leo’?”

 

“I keep getting an image of a small lion. Mean anything to you?”

 

“My friend’s dog’s name is Leo.” Tommy rubs his palms against his knees. This is officially getting weird.

 

“The friend you can’t find?”

 

Tommy exhales, “Yeah.”

 

Alice nods. “You miss him very much.”

 

“Leo?”

 

“Your friend.” Alice looks at him with soft eyes. “You broke up?”

 

What? No, that’s not right. “What?” Tommy says out loud. Maybe a little too out loud.

 

Alice leans towards Tommy, head slightly tilted, mirroring Angela Merkel. “I’m getting this overwhelming feeling of love, but also sadness? Or maybe frustration? You had a fight, didn’t you?”

 

“No. But, I mean. Yes? We’re not together. Not like that. I mean, it’s not. We did have a fight. And now I’ve lost him.” Tommy feels like something is slipping through his fingers, but he doesn’t know what.

 

Alice sets the mug down on the end table. “Okay. Here are all the images I keep getting, though to be honest I think they are coming more from you than the mug, if that makes sense. I see lots of words, like a _LOT_ of words. I keep getting a glimpse of looking out from under a desk – it may not make sense to you now, but it’s a pretty strong image, so something to think about.”

 

_It makes complete sense._

 

She continues, “I see a small lion, which we think symbolizes his dog, and it makes sense he would appear this way, given your connection to dogs. Right, Angela?” She scratches her pup’s head and Angela yawns in agreement. “And I see, just, a lot of love.” Alice looks at Tommy, who is staring at her, not breathing. “Tommy?”

 

Tommy blinks and inhales sharply. “What?”

 

“Does any of this ring true to you?”

 

_YES, ALL OF IT WHAT THE FUCK._ “Um. Yeah. I. Um. Yeah. I really need to find him.” Tommy is, on the one hand, relieved that she saw things that she wouldn’t know about, but on the other hand, freaked out that she saw things she wouldn’t know about. His eyes feel prickly and wet.

 

“He means so much to you, doesn’t he?” Alice asks with kindness.

 

Tommy nods. “We’ve been best friends forever.” He can hear his voice tremble over the word “forever.”

 

Alice smiles. “Like two peas in a pod.”

 

Tommy barks out a laugh, but it’s really more like a sob. “A pod. Yeah.”

 

Alice walks Tommy to the door. As he’s about to step off her porch, she suddenly grabs his arm and says, “Look, this is very weird – which I know is saying something – but this has never happened to me before: I have this really strong feeling that he’s looking for you, too. I don’t know why I feel that way, but I do. You will find Jon, I _know_ it.” She gives Tommy a quick nod and shuts her front door.

 

_You will find Jon, I know it._

 

Tommy keeps repeating this over and over in his head as he drives home, trying to keep his breathing even, trying not to hope. It isn’t until he’s five miles down the interstate that he realizes he never told her Jon’s name.

 

++++

 

_“God, Tommy, you feel amazing.”_

_Tommy looks up at Jon where he sits, astride Tommy’s thighs. Jon slides his hands over Tommy’s abs, up his shirtless chest, and down his sides. He leans down and kisses Tommy, soft and agonizingly slow, tongue dragging lightly across Tommy’s lower lip. Tommy’s head is spinning as he brings his arms up around Jon’s neck, running his fingers through Jon’s hair. Jon pulls back enough to breathe, “Oh my god, Tom, I can’t get enough of you.”_

_Tommy feels himself staring into Jon’s eyes; he can’t help himself, cataloging his brown irises, marked with flecks of gold and deeper browns, his dark pupils, and long eyelashes. Tommy is pressed against the pillows under Jon’s weight and it feels so good. He can’t say anything, doesn’t know the words to say what he feels. Surely there are words? Everything is warm in the soft light of the bedside lamp, Jon’s hand soft but firm on his face, his thumb tracing Tommy’s cheekbone._

_Jon kisses down Tommy’s jaw, traces his lips down the line of his neck, Tommy’s skin feels like it’s lighting up under every press of Jon’s mouth. Jon continues kissing down Tommy’s sternum, and Tommy can barely stand it. He breathes in Jon’s scent, somehow sweet and masculine at the same time. Jon shifts back and licks Tommy’s trembling stomach. “Tommy you’re so hot, I want you so much.”_

_“I…” Tommy should say something, but his brain is hazy with want and how can he even get across what he wants to say when Jon is all over him, grasping at him, kissing him, working the button on his jeans, sucking at his hip, grabbing his thighs, rubbing his face against him…_

 

Tommy startles awake with a gasp. Lucca is snoring softly on the other side of the bed. He drags his hand across his face. He’s sweaty, t-shirt clinging to his chest, and impossibly hard in his pajama pants. _Shit._

 

++++

 

Saturday

It’s Saturday morning, and normally Tommy would have gotten up and gone for a run by now, but today he just can’t bring himself to get out from under the covers. He’s completely wrecked. He hasn’t slept through the night at all this week, and last night he had to jerk off before he could even think about trying to fall back asleep. He gets up to give Lucca breakfast and let her out in the yard to do her business, then immediately crawls back into bed, exhausted by this minimal level of activity. The two of them are cuddled under his comforter, Lucca curled and warm against Tommy, while he half-heartedly scrolls through Twitter. He is debating whether or not to finally make a pot of coffee when he hears someone pounding on his front door. For a brief, shining moment his heart skips a beat as he thinks, _Maybe??_ but he soon crashes back down as he remembers which reality he’s in.

 

He wraps the comforter around his shoulders, and the pounding continues as he shuffles barefoot down the hallway, down the stairs, and through his living room. He opens the door to Lovett, who has a travel tray with two coffees in one hand, Pundit’s leash around his other wrist.

 

Lovett walks in Tommy’s house before Tommy can say anything, and Tommy’s left standing semi-dazed in his own foyer. It hasn’t even been a week since the last Lovett intrusion. Lovett unclips Pundit, who runs off with Lucca, looks Tommy up and down and says, “Jesus Christ, Tommy, you look like shit.”

 

Tommy looks at the coffee, “You went to Dunkin’?”

 

“Yeah, well, it was on the way here.” Lovett shrugs.

 

Tommy knows this is a lie, Lovett is just trying to not draw attention to his thoughtfulness. Tommy doesn’t mention the kindness. Lovett wouldn’t want him to.

 

“Here, this one’s yours.” Lovett hands Tommy his I'm-definitely-not-going-out-of-my-way-for-you coffee. Lovett can be sneakily sweet sometimes and he doesn’t get enough credit for it.

 

“Thanks.” Tommy takes a sip and looks at Lovett expectantly.

 

“So,” Lovett says.

 

“So,” Tommy repeats.

 

“So, you've been acting all weird this week, and I show up here and you look like an _actual_ dumpster fire and it’s freaking me out.”

 

Tommy simply stands there, because he can't really argue with that, and besides what else would he even say? He readjusts his comforter-cape.

 

“Tommy, seriously. What on earth is going on with you?”

 

Tommy looks at Lovett and sees the anxiety mixed in the irritation. He takes another sip of his coffee and sits down on his couch. He contemplates for a second what he should do, how he could spin his weird behavior, how much to divulge. He doesn’t have the energy to come up with anything but the truth. “Okay, I'm going to tell you something that will sound insane, but I promise you I am completely compos mentis.”

 

“That sounds like something an insane person would say.” Lovett sits opposite Tommy on the couch, folding himself in a way that says that his war on chairs remains a sustained campaign.

 

Tommy takes a deep breath and sits with his back against the arm of the sofa, facing Lovett. “I am living in an alternate universe.” He pulls the comforter tighter around him.

 

“I'm sorry, when are we getting to the sane part?”

 

“I know, I know, just bear with me.” Tommy stares at the coffee in his hand and tries to think of a better way to go about this. “Let me rewind. There’s this guy.”

 

“Tommy, are you having a gay crisis? Thank god I came over.”

 

“What? No. You know I’ve been with guys before.”

 

“Well sure, on a theoretical level, but I’ve never seen you, uh, apply this premise.”

 

Tommy rolls his eyes, “Whatever. That’s not the important part. The important part is that _this_ guy isn’t in _this_ universe.”

 

“What does that even mean?” Lovett has a look on his face like he’s half-way between exasperation and aggravation, but still semi-trying to be patient for Tommy’s sake.

 

“That means, that there’s _this guy_ , who I have worked with since Obama was in the Senate, who is my best friend –”

 

“Debatable.”

 

“– who is my best friend, and who I might be in love with, and who was for sure at my house last Saturday, and who suddenly doesn’t exist come Monday morning.” Tommy exhales. It’s oddly refreshing to have finally say everything out loud.

 

“Okay, there is a lot to unpack in what you just said, and I have many questions.”

 

“That’s fair,” Tommy concedes.

 

“One – for the moment, the court will stipulate that the premise of an alternate universe is real.”

 

“So stipulated.”

 

“Two – what do you mean, he doesn’t exist in this universe?”

 

“I mean every trace of him is gone! He’s not in my phone contacts, he’s not in any of my photos, I even called his mom and she didn’t know who I was talking about! I can’t remember the last time I’ve gone this long without talking to him. He was _everywhere_ , and now he’s –” Tommy’s voice catches “– he’s nowhere.” He concentrates very hard on Not Crying.

 

“Jesus, alright.” Lovett sounds like he realizes Tommy is starting to spiral and shifts into problem-solving mode. “Let’s figure this out.”

 

Tommy can feel a tear slide down one of his cheeks. So much for not crying.

 

“Three – if he was there Saturday, but not Monday, let’s try to determine what variable has changed.” Tommy winces at this. Lovett sees this, and continues, “Unless… you know what’s different?”

 

Tommy closes his eyes and thinks back to – was it only a week ago? “We had a fight.”

 

As Lovett nods sagely, like he’s some kind of arbiter of alternate universe wisdom, the memory of last Saturday finally comes flooding back to Tommy in all its weight and meaning.

 

++++

_Tommy and Jon had been hanging out at Tommy's place, watching the Red Sox play the Orioles. Should be an easy win, but it's a division game, so._

_Jon is kind of acting weird, but he hasn’t said anything, and Tommy has learned to wait until he finds the right words._

_Finally, after 7 innings of shoulder claps, finger brushes, and semi-casual knee grazing, Jon is slouched, pressed up against Tommy, loose and warm after a few beers, and his head is practically on Tommy's shoulder. Is he even aware he’s doing it? Jon has obviously always been affectionate, open with his friendship. But somehow, this evening, it feels different. Jon keeps looking at him, like Tommy won’t notice his furtive glances. Like Tommy hasn’t known Jon for over a decade. Like Tommy doesn’t know all his tells._

_Finally, Jon turns to him on the couch, and all of a sudden Tommy knows what’s coming and he can feel himself tense up. He takes in Jon’s earnest face, and his suspicion is confirmed. Oh, no._

_It’s not like Tommy has never thought about being with Jon, of course he has. He thought that they could maybe be something once, back in the beginning, but nothing ever went anywhere and Tommy accepted that it was for the best. He still has Jon in his life, which is really the only thing he’s ever wanted. It’s fine. It’s enough. There’s no need to upset the delicate balance of Tommy’s heart._

_“Tommy, you’ve been my best friend for a long time now,” Jon starts, “And I –”_

_Tommy cuts him off, “Wait. Jon. Don’t.” He feels like absolute shit saying it, but he can’t let this happen. He’s done too much work to get past those feelings from (not) so long ago, and Tommy’s not sure he could deal with the pain of them resurfacing. There is too much at stake now, their company and their work are too important, their friendship is too sacred to risk losing it. To be presented with this—now—is simultaneously Tommy’s wildest dream and worst nightmare._

_Jon’s eyes search his face. Tommy can feel his cheeks flush, as Jon tries again, “Tom. Look, I just. It took me a bit to figure out, but I know how I feel about you, and I think you feel the same way. Please, Tom. Talk to me.”_

_“Talk to you?” Tommy is incredulous. “Okay, fine. I can’t believe you are bringing this up now! When the stakes are so high!” His chest feels tight, and he’s putting all his effort into keeping himself from flying to pieces._

_“I know the timing isn’t great, but when is it ever?” Jon reaches out to put a hand on Tommy’s knee, but Tommy stands up to move out of his reach. Being touched by Jon now, after every other touch tonight seems like a bridge too far. Tommy feels miserable about it but knows his grasp on his own façade is tenuous, and he can’t risk falling apart under Jon’s beautiful fingers._

_“I can’t do this, Jon. Not now. Not after all this time. Please.” The desperation in his voice cannot be helped._

_Something flickers over Jon’s face. “All this time? Tommy, what do you mean ‘all this time’?”_

_Tommy laughs but there is no joy in it. “Nothing, Jon. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Tommy is still standing, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor. He shifts his feet._

_Jon stands up off the couch and steps towards Tommy. Tommy steps back, and Jon’s face falls. Tommy is feeling more and more dismal with every passing second, unsure if he can keep doing this right now. “Maybe you should go.”_

_Jon looks stunned. “_ What? _Tommy, please let’s talk through this. I don’t want to leave it like this, I care about you so much.” Jon gestures like he doesn’t know where to put his arms, like he wants to reach out to Tommy, but knows he can’t._

_“I know you do, Jon, I know. It’s just that sometimes my life would be so much simpler if you weren't in it.” Tommy sighs. He feels like such an asshole._

_Jon looks completely deflated, but Tommy can see the muscles in his jaw clench. “Fine.”_

_And with that, Jon walks out the door._

_Tommy picks up a bottle of whisky out of the cabinet and doesn’t remember anything after that._

 

++++

 

“Go on,” Lovett says, back in the here and now.

 

So, Tommy tells him about the fight. About Jon telling Tommy how he felt. Tommy shutting him down. Jon walking out. And for as prickly as Lovett can be when it comes to other people’s feelings, he sits there and listens to all of it.

 

Lovett is quiet for a beat. “Wow. That is a lot.”

 

“Yeah.” Tommy feels profoundly empty at reliving Jon walking out of his house, out of his life, and apparently, out of his universe.

 

“Man, you’ve got it real bad for this guy. Is he even hot? I need to make sure he’s worthy of those cheekbones.”

 

Tommy thinks about Jon’s ridiculous face. “Lo, he’s so hot you wouldn’t believe.”

 

Lovett laughs, “Okay, okay, fine, tell me about this mystery dreamboat.”

 

“Um, well. He’s the kind of person who is so earnest, you might think it was a joke. Like, when I first met him, I was like, who the fuck is this guy? All he wants is for everyone to get along, all movies to have happy endings, and voting rights for everybody. Real sunshine and rainbows shit.”

 

“Seems fake, but sure.” Lovett grins at him. Tommy isn’t positive Lovett really believes him about the alternate universe thing, but he’s indulging Tommy for now. And once Tommy starts talking, he can’t stop – he’s been so quiet about Jon all week, all his life if he’s being honest – and it’s so cathartic to let it all out.

 

“I know! But he is legitimately the most sincere, most decent person I know. We used to share a cubicle during the campaign, and I thought for sure I would get so sick of him, but I don’t know, I think he kind of balanced me out. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

 

“You never could help yourself around puppy dogs, so this totally tracks,” Lovett says as he sips his coffee.

 

Tommy had never thought about it like this but of course Lovett would be the one to make such a sharp observation. “Yeah, I guess.” Tommy runs his hand through his hair and scratches the back of his neck as he absorbs this appraisal of his relationship; he feels seen on a molecular level. He continues, “And, um. He was an incredible speechwriter, and storyteller. Like, I know I get caught up in the minutiae of everything – "

 

“Yeah, no shit,” Lovett interjects.

 

“– but he always had the big message. Kept things in perspective. Kept me on track more than I realized.”

 

“So, was this like, your first fight?”

 

“I mean, yeah.” Tommy fiddles with the plastic lid of his coffee cup. “Except there was this one time,” Tommy starts to giggle at the memory, “I – Jon is so trusting, and he left his email open –”

 

“Oh no!” Lovett looks delightedly stricken.

 

“Oh, yeah. He just _left it open_ , and I couldn’t help it. So… I may have sent Chris Matthews an email.”

 

“Chris Matthews?? Like MSNBC Chris Matthews?!” Lovett gasps. Tommy nods, laughing.

 

“Yeah, it said ‘Hey, man, nice Hardballin’ last night.’ Jon was _so pissed_.”

 

“Ah- _ma_ y-zing.” Lovett is laughing in that full, open-mouthed way when he finds something legitimately hilarious.

 

It feels good to laugh like this after how stressful this whole week has been. Tommy’s tearing up from laughing so hard, but as is sometimes the case, the tears spill over into feelings closer to heartbreak. Tommy can see Jon across the years, so determined to have an impact on the democratic process. His breath catches. “Jon always pushed me to be better, you know? Like, the work we do is critical, and it’s easy to get lost in the outcome, but Jon always liked the process. God, you should see him talk about the filibuster,” Tommy wipes at his eyes with a corner of the security-comforter that’s still draped over his shoulders, “It all means so much to him. And sometimes, like, obviously I want to do everything I can to help this country dig itself out of this shit show, and I want people to get healthcare and have better lives, but sometimes, I want all those things because I know how much it would mean to Jon.” Tommy can feel the tears slip down his face, but there’s nothing to be done about it. Tommy sighs, looks up at Lovett, and continues, “He’s just. He’s so persistent, and he always has faith that things will work out if we care enough and advocate and fight. But I didn’t know – I mean, I never realized.”

 

“Realized what?” Lovett asks softly.

 

“I think I sort of took him for granted? Or maybe I was too scared to face my own feelings? I miss him so much, Lovett. I miss his smile; I miss his optimism. I would do anything to get him back, but I have no idea how to make that happen. He’s… the best. He’s the _best_ , and now he’s gone, and I missed my chance.” Tommy pauses. “Be careful what you wish for, you know?”

 

Now that Tommy has finally talked himself into the ground, Lovett scoots across the couch and surprises Tommy with a hug.

 

“You must think I’m certifiable,” Tommy says, as he tries to catch his breath.

 

“Well, I’m not completely sold on this alternate universe thing being, like, more than a hypothetical, but you’re pretty convincing. Am I in your other reality?”

 

“Yup. But, uh, you started out working for Hillary, and joined us after we won.”

 

“Are you joking?” Lovett is understandably suspicious.

 

“Nope.”

 

“AAAARRRRE YOU JOKING?” Lovett seems kind of mad about this, so Tommy just looks at him, mouth pressed in a straight line.

 

“Holy shit. I – well. That is an interesting development.” Tommy gives Lovett a second to process this information.

 

“And um. Jon was head speechwriter and he hired you right after the inauguration. He was really happy to have you on the team.”

 

“– The point is, this Jon fellow seems very smart.”

 

Tommy grins, “Yeah, he’s pretty great. And in my other world Jon has Dan’s job here, and Dan lives in San Francisco.”

 

“Oh, weird.”

 

“Hence my confusion at Dan sitting at Jon’s desk.”

 

“Riiiight.” Lovett leans back against the couch, and watches Pundit and Lucca wrestle for a few seconds. “So, what are you going to do?”

 

“Honestly, I have no idea. I mean, I guess I live here now, but the thought of living in a world without out Jon is kind of… unbearable.” Tommy can feel the tears he’d finally stopped crying still there in the margins.

 

“Um, Tommy, you aren’t going to do anything, like, drastic, are you?” Lovett asks this quietly, like he’s afraid of the answer.

 

“No. I – no. I’m not.” Tommy can at least be certain about that.

 

“I wish I could help you with whatever this is. It sounds like you really love him.”

 

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Tommy leans the side of his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes, curled up still with his comforter bundled around him. He is suddenly intensely exhausted. “I’m glad you’re here. Not just, you know, in this world, but here now.”

 

“Yeah, well. I don’t know if I’m any less worried about you than when I got here, but at least I know what’s going on. Come on, let’s watch some Frasier.”

 

Tommy is grateful for the minimal brain power required for the rest of the day. Even though it’s sunny and warm outside, Lovett Postmates some Matzah Ball soup from The Good Deli You Know The One With The Real Bagels (“It has healing powers.” “I’m not sick, Lovett.” “Irrelevant, Tommy”). They watch an entire season of Frasier. Eventually, Tommy convinces Lovett that he doesn’t have to stay the night. He gives Lovett a hug and hopes it conveys how much it means to him that Lovett showed up, listened to him, and didn’t call him bonkers to his face.

 

++++

 

_Tommy gets to the airport with plenty of time. He’s excited to go home to Boston for the holiday, even if it’s only for two days. Plus, Jon said they could hang out Christmas evening, and he’s looking forward to spending time with Jon outside of DC._

_He gets to gate D4 only to find out his flight has been re-assigned to a new gate – B16 – in a different terminal. He sets off to find it. He walks down corridors, on moving walkways, up escalators, following signs to the new gate. He gets to where the gate should be, but it’s not there. B gates only go up to 15? He asks an airline employee, and they direct Tommy to gate A2. He can’t miss this flight, or he won’t get to hang out with Jon and revisit their old stomping grounds. Or see his family. With a sigh he sets off to the new gate. He gets to A2, but the sign says the flight is for Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Tommy smirks at the irony and goes to scan the screens listing flight departures. New gate: A8. He walks the short distance and the gate has the correct flight number and the correct city! And he’s in time to board the plane! Tommy settles into his seat and the flight attendants start their safety spiel when someone starts knocking on the plane door. The flight crew look confused- no one should be allowed on the jetway and the crew isn’t allowed to open the door once it’s shut. The person on the outside is shouting “Open the door! I have to get on the plane! Open the doooor!”_

 

++++

 

Sunday

Tommy wakes up to pounding on his front door again. _Jesus, Lovett, get a grip._ Tommy rolls out of bed, and as he walks towards the front door he calls out, “Lovett, I told you I'm fine, you don't need to worry –” Tommy pulls open the door in a whoosh but stops dead in his tracks and his train of thought skitters to a halt.

 

Jon is standing on his front step, fist still raised in mid-knock, face full of apprehension. “Why would Lovett be worried about you?”

 

Tommy stands there staring at Jon, blinking, his brain a dial tone.

 

“Tommy? Are you okay?”

 

“You're here? You're actually _here_? How – What – I mean. You’re really here.” Tommy reaches out and touches Jon’s chest like he’s not sure Jon isn’t an apparition. He can’t imagine what his own face must look like.

 

“Um, yes? May I come in, please?” Jon always reverts to hyper politeness when he’s nervous. He’s wearing old Holy Cross sweatpants and a Vote Save America t-shirt. He doesn’t look like he’s slept, and he’s looking everywhere but at Tommy.

 

Tommy steps back into his foyer, and stares at Jon as he walks past him into the living room. Tommy closes the door and follows Jon to where he’s standing in the middle of the room. Jon has his arms crossed over his chest and is shifting side to side on his feet. _He seems really anxious_ , Tommy thinks.

 

“I couldn’t let the weekend end without dealing with this,” Jon tells the floor. “I didn’t want to go to work on Monday with this thing between us unresolved. I know you said it would be easier if I wasn’t in your life, but a) that would honestly suck for me and b) I don’t think you meant it.” Jon finally looks at Tommy. His eyes are big and pleading.

 

Tommy shakes his head. “I don’t. I don’t mean it at all. You not in my life is awful. I never want you not in my life. Please be in my life.” Tommy can’t help himself, he sounds so desperate, but the words tumble out of him.

 

Jon seems a little thrown by this admission. “It hasn’t even been 24 hours.”

 

“Oh.” Tommy pauses, digesting this adjusted timeline. “I had a, uh, dream? That you weren’t here and… and nothing made sense. It was horrible. Like, it was so bad, Jon, and I didn’t know what to do or how to fix it. I was so lost. And when you walked out of here last Satur… – uh, last _night_ – I thought… I really thought I’d never see you again.”

 

“I’m sorry I made things weird. We can pretend I never said anything, and I won’t mention it ever again. I just want to get back to normal.” Jon sounds sincere, he really means it, but he also looks resigned to settling for something less than he wants. Tommy hates it.

 

“No, wait. I’m the one who should apologize. You said something very important, and I was a complete jerk to you.” Tommy takes the last few steps to where Jon is standing. He wants to hold Jon’s hand, but both of them are still hidden under Jon’s arms as he hugs himself. Tommy settles for placing his hand softly on Jon’s bicep, as he continues, “I don’t know exactly how to say this, so please bear with me for a second.” Tommy takes a deep breath. “I thought I was fine with how things were, and then you said what you said, and I clearly didn’t handle it well. I guess. I don’t know. But I know I don’t want to go back to normal.”

 

Jon looks at him with confusion.

 

Tommy tries again, “I mean I want a new normal. A different normal.”

 

“A different normal?” Jon repeats, still baffled.

 

“Yes. Um. I had all these feelings for you for so long, and I really thought I had, like, gotten past it. And then you said you had feelings for me, and I freaked out.”

 

“That wasn’t so great for me either.” Jon is still standing so stiffly but Tommy doesn’t know what to do to help, so he presses on.

 

“Yeah, uh, I’m not proud of that. That was shitty of me. I’m sorry. I think I was trying to protect myself, like anticipating something bad that hadn’t even happened yet?”

 

“Why would something bad happen?” God, Tommy couldn’t help but smile at Jon’s faith in the universe.

 

“I just knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it if it went south, but I now realize I was scared and selfish and I ended up hurting you instead, which is the last thing I would ever want to do.” Jon has to know how much Tommy means this, but he’s not sure he can adequately communicate it.

 

Jon looks at Tommy’s hand, still resting on his arm. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

 

Tommy sighs, a little frustrated, throwing his hands in the air, “I don’t know! I couldn’t risk it! So, I settled for what I had – which wasn’t everything, but it was still great.”

 

“Tom, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Jon’s shoulders are still tight, but he has dropped one arm down, the other hand still holding the opposite elbow. Tommy hopes this is progress.

 

“Yeah, well.”

 

“You should have said something. I would have –”

 

“You would have what, Jon? I mean, you know, why didn’t _you_ get your shit together and figure this out sooner?” It sounds more accusatory than Tommy means, but also, just the right amount of accusatory.

 

Jon laughs ruefully, “Yeah, that’s fair. I don’t know. It just seemed like everything was like it always was, and then all of a sudden it was, like, _more_? Like, colors were brighter or something. I don’t know how to describe it. You were who you have always been, but one day I looked at you and I couldn’t imagine life without you.  And I can’t believe I was so oblivious to what you’ve been carrying all this time. I, uh, I can see why my admission might have been too much. How were we on such completely different wavelengths about this?”

 

“To be fair, I’ve been kind of fucked up about it. But I think we are on the same page now? So maybe let’s focus on that?” At last, Tommy feels like they have caught up to each other, and he can finally breathe like a normal person. He pulls Jon into his arms, stroking his hands up and down Jon’s back. He exhales, “God I can’t believe you are real. I mean, really here.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jon says into Tommy’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around Tommy’s waist.

 

Tommy pulls back a bit. Jon feels so good and solid against him. Tommy looks at Jon as if he’s trying to memorize every particle of him. Jon looks like a vision.

 

“Tommy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Jon closes the remaining space between them and places his lips softly on Tommy’s. And with that Tommy can feel the last remaining coils of tension let go. He sinks into the kiss, running his hand up Jon’s shoulder and into Jon’s hair. Tommy cannot believe he almost missed out on this. He sucks on Jon’s lower lip, kisses along his jaw, over his cheek, and next to Jon’s eye. He can feel Jon’s breath quicken, hears the quiet moans from Jon’s mouth.

 

He keeps kissing Jon and thinks, _I’ll never take this for granted, not ever_. Jon kisses him with such earnestness and openness, it’s all Tommy can do to keep from completely melting into the floor. Tommy presses his body against Jon, trying to keep as much contact with Jon as possible, and feels Jon’s dick hardening against his hip. Suddenly, nothing else matters.

 

Tommy grabs Jon’s hand and wordlessly, but urgently, leads him upstairs to his bedroom. They sit on Tommy’s bed, and Jon grabs Tommy’s face and kisses him with an intensity Tommy has only ever thought about in the dark. He pulls at Jon’s shirt and finally gets to the warm, smooth skin underneath. Jon pushes Tommy back on the bed, swinging a leg over him so he’s got a knee on either side of Tommy’s hips.

 

“Oh my god, Jon.” Tommy is so overwhelmed by what is happening he can’t do anything but stare up at Jon, his eyes sort of losing focus. Jon pulls off Tommy’s t-shirt and throws it on the floor; his hands stroke up Tommy’s freckled chest.

 

Jon looks down at him, hands stilled on Tommy’s stomach. “What do you want, Tom?”

 

Tommy’s eyes fix on Jon’s face, and he is confronted by Jon leaning over him, the morning light a halo around his face, illuminating his cheeks and glinting off his eyelashes. “Uh, anything, everything,” Tommy answers – he has no idea how to answer this question, how to convey that he never wants Jon to stop touching him, never wants to let him out of his sight. “I just want you, all of you.”

 

Jon leans down and kisses him, deep and dirty, leaning on his right elbow as his left hand reaches down between them and into Tommy’s sleep pants. Breaking the kiss to smirk down at Tommy, he grabs Tommy’s cock. All Tommy can do is grasp at Jon’s thighs and try to remember to breathe. Jon’s hand is moving up and down Tommy’s dick and Tommy is trying to focus but it’s hard with the heat of Jon’s fingers wrapped around him, Jon’s legs pinning him down. “Jon, oh, god Jon, please,” Tommy is babbling nonsense.

 

Jon stretches his legs out behind him, pressing his body tip to toe against Tommy. He starts rolling his hips against Tommy’s thigh, his breath catching as he chases friction. Tommy has one arm around Jon, the other fisted in the blankets. Tommy is so close, and all that is coming out of his mouth is “Oh, oh, oh god,” because he’s lost any and all higher brain function. He feels Jon pressing against him, chasing his own orgasm. He’s whispering, “Tommy Tommy Tommy Tommy,” with his mouth next to Tommy’s ear.

 

Tommy’s orgasm crashes into him, and he practically disintegrates as he shouts “JON!” Tommy’s come is all over Jon’s hand and his own stomach, and Jon strokes him through the mess until he’s too sensitive. All the while Jon’s own body is tensing with build-up. Tommy wraps his wet noodle of a leg around Jon and tries to kiss what he can reach of Jon’s face. Jon’s eyes squeeze shut as he comes, his hips stuttering and pressing hard against Tommy. “Fuck, Tommy, oh _jesus_!”

 

Afterwards, they clean up and get rid of the rest of their sticky clothes. Tommy and Jon lie on their sides, facing each other, all skin and limbs. Tommy is still a little too overwhelmed to not stare at the reality of Jon’s face.

 

“You know, I had a dream about you last night too,” Jon confesses, practically whispering, like he doesn’t want to break the spell of whatever this is.

 

Tommy blinks at him, “You did?”

 

“Yeah, it was pretty, uh, weird… like I was supposed to meet you somewhere, but I couldn’t remember where? I kept calling your phone and leaving voicemails and texting you and I would go to find you, but each place I went you had just left, and I felt like I was chasing you all over town. That’s why I had to come over here immediately after I woke up. I’m sorry it was so early, I couldn’t wait.” He grins, a little embarrassed, but Tommy smiles back at him kissing him soft and sweet, because he can. Tommy flashes back to Alice grabbing his arm and telling him Jon was looking for him too, and he has to blink back the tears that are waiting in the wings threatening to make another cameo.

 

They lie like that for a while, and Tommy’s eyes keep drifting closed, but he doesn’t want to fall asleep now that Jon is here and warm and in his bed. He wants to keep looking at him. It’s still so hard to believe he’s back, or that any of the things that have occurred this morning have really happened.

 

Jon touches Tommy’s cheek with his long graceful fingers, his thumb caressing Tommy’s cheekbone, his forefinger tracing down the bridge of his nose and smoothing over Tommy’s eyebrow. “You’re so tired, Tommy. I woke you up too early. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

 

“I don’t want to miss anything. I don’t ever want to be apart from you.” Tommy knows how needy it sounds, but he’s too worn-out to care. It’s been such an agonizing week, and he feels like he needs to make up for all the time he’s lost.

 

“You sound like an Aerosmith song,” Jon teases. Tommy laughs. He’s so happy (and possibly delirious with fatigue), he doesn’t care how cheesy he sounds.

 

Jon smiles back at him, “Don’t worry, love. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up. And besides, you’ll probably see me in your dreams.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Obama referring to Cody Keenan as “Hemingway” is from this NYT article:  
> [ State of the Union Speechwriter for Obama Draws on Various Inspirations](https://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/20/us/politics/cody-keenan-obamas-hemingway-draws-on-friends-empathy-and-a-little-whisky-for-state-of-the-union.html?module=inline)
> 
> Tommy’s prank email to Chris Matthews is from this article:  
> [ Tommy Vietor: Bridging the gap between the public and the classified](http://uchicagogate.com/articles/2014/1/24/tommy-vietor-bridging-the-gap-between-the-public-and-the-classified/)


End file.
